


Romance Ain't Dead

by TerrusDacktellus



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Buffy the Vampire Slayer (Comics)
Genre: 1k promptathon, F/M, Spuffy, comic fic, schmoop level: 9000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-16
Updated: 2015-08-16
Packaged: 2018-04-15 02:18:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4589283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TerrusDacktellus/pseuds/TerrusDacktellus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Buffy and Spike plan a date night over the slaughtered carcass of a demon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Romance Ain't Dead

**Author's Note:**

  * For [nowinlivingcolor](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nowinlivingcolor/gifts).



> Written for the prompt on Tumblr, "Buffy planning a date night with Spike" - from nowinlivingcolor. Set in s10, sometime in the future, once the crossover ends and Angel finally fucks off back to London.

“I was thinking we should go out.” 

Buffy wrenched the scythe’s blade out of the minotaur’s throat and winced as arterial spray spurted over her knee high boots. 

“We are out,” she said, examining the damage morosely. She swiped ineffectually at the the blood with her sleeve, which just made things worse, because now she had icky minotaur gunk on her nice leather jacket. Spike bent and tore a strip out of the dead demon’s loincloth and offered it her.

“I know,” he said. “But I thought it might be nice to have a night out without, y’know, demonic bodily fluids everywhere.”

She arched an eyebrow at him, copying his patented ‘said the actress to the bishop’ expression.

“Other demons’ bodily fluids, I mean,” he added, giving the eyebrow right back. 

At least minotaur blood didn’t appear to have any caustic properties. Buffy stalled by fussing over her boots some more, but she could feel his eyes boring into her head. Damn him and his piercy eyes. 

“So how about it?” 

She raised her head cautiously, and found him leaning back against the wall of the minotaur’s cave - it’d been trying to dig a labyrinth, stupid thing - and trying extremely hard to look nonchalant. He was still a terrible actor. Buffy considered playing dumb, but he knew her too well. 

“You, me,” he went on. “Dinner or something?”

“You mean, like a date?” she said. 

“Well, we are dating, right?” 

Oh great. More insecure vampire stuff. Her day was complete. She’d thought that giving Angel the brush off would have put an end to this but apparently, this was one of the many joys of dating Spike. He was beginning to look hurt though, and she had recently discovered that Spike looking hurt gave her a nasty swooping sensation in her stomach that had never been there before.

“Of course we are,” she blurted out, practically lunging to take his hand in hers. He squeezed it and lifted his free hand to her face, big, blunt fingers skating lightly over cheek as he wavered between confusion, exasperation and tenderness.

“Then what’s the big deal? Let me take you out. Or we can go dutch. Whatever you like.” He looked so very earnest, sounded like taking her out was his very dearest wish. Buffy fidgeted. 

“You’re gonna think this is stupid.” 

“I would never think anything you do is stupid,” he swore, cupping her cheek and shifting his other hand to her hip. She’d got used to all these little touches faster than she’d expected, soft, light reassurances that she was really there and he wasn’t leaving. He was, however, currently bullshitting. She eyebrow-ed him again until he caved.

“Well, unless it was something genuinely stupid,” he said, because her vampire was an intellectual snob. It was funny, really, given how much he played dumb. She lowered her head and butted him lightly on his upper chest.

“’M just fooling, honest. Go ahead an’ tell me.” 

Buffy let her head stay there, resting on his pec, all solidly soothing. 

“So, this isn’t really new, right?” she said. “I mean, it is, as a whole, but in its, like, individual elements. We’ve done the sex thing before-”

“Once or twice, yeah,” said Spike seriously, and she bit his collar bone in reprisal. She liked that they could kid with each other now, and not risk ripping each other to shreds. 

“Shut up, lemme finish. We’ve done the sex before and the whole emotional sharing thing before and the fighting together and the playful banter, but we’ve never, ever been on a date. And I don’t wanna fuck it up.” 

“So you’d rather never go on a date?” Spike sounded bemused and rightfully so. Buffy was well aware that she was being ridiculous, he just didn’t have to be so quick to agree with her. 

“Yes. No. I don’t knoooow.” She tipped her head up to look at him and saw, to her surprise, none of the frustrated anger her indecisiveness used to bring out in him. Just warmth and affection. And yeah, a large dose of mild irritation but she’d get over that for the soft and tinglies. 

“We don’t have to do anything you don’t want, sweetheart.” 

Once upon a time, the pet names made her instantly spitting mad, all the more because she liked the way they sounded. Now she revelled in every little endearment, she was his sweetheart and his pet and his baby (but not literally because in actuality that was way creepy) and some other really, really filthy ones that made her all wet and melty inside.

“I do want to,” she said, trying to scrape dried blood off his shirt with a nail. Damn, she liked this one. “I just … I’m nervous. I don’t want it to be this big, weird thing, you in a tie and me in some expensive dress that I will inevitably ruin in a French restaurant where we can’t even read the menu and not knowing what to order or what to say and then eating too much and being too full to have sex, oh my God, stop laughing at me.”

Spike slumped back against the wall, giggling. “I’m sorry,” he panted. “I love you, but you’re ridiculous. No, don’t do that!” 

He pulled her quickly back as she went to step away. “I’m not laughing at you.” 

She pinched him. 

“Ow! Okay, I am a little, but not just at you. Baby, you don’t think I wasn’t nervous as fuck askin’ you that? Look at me, nearly 150 years old an’ kackin’ it at the thought of asking my own girlfriend to dinner. What a pair of dolts we are, both so worried about fuckin’ it up. But look, it just means we both care, yeah?” 

“Yeah, I guess.” He was giving her the tinglies again, warming her stomach in that good way of his. She snuggled up to him, tucking her head under his chin. 

“And there won’t be any pressure, okay?” he went on. “Because y’know why I wanna go out with you? I want you to have fun, love. I wanna see you enjoy yourself.”

Those were definitely not tears stinging her eyes, no siree, because this would be a very stupid thing to cry over. She smiled into his neck and squeezed him in her arms. 

“So where will we go, huh?” she asked and he tipped her head back gently so he could see her. But not that far back, ‘cause he was pretty short. Oh well. All the better to kiss you with, my dear. 

“Anywhere you like,” he said. “That Irish pub on our street is nice. An’ casual. No ties required.” 

“Alcohol and Buffy, still not quite mixy.”

“Punk club down town. Don’ have to drink, just gotta dance.”

“I like dancing,” she said, smiling at him. He took advantage of their negligible height difference to kiss her upturned lips, his eyes crinkling at her.

“I had a feeling.” Spike stooped to pick up his sword and hand her the scythe, then looped an arm around her shoulders. “I would like to state for the record, though, that I can read French.”

“Of course you can.” 

“’S’not that hard. When you get right down to it, French is just bastardized Latin with some phonetic delusions.”

“Right, and you’re an imperialist dick,” she accused, as they sauntered out of the cave. Spike snorted.

“You have me there. An’ while we’re on the subject, I have never in my unlife been too full for sex.”

Buffy rolled her eyes, sliding her hand under his coat and worming it into the back pocket of his jeans. That was some good butt right there. 

“Sure,” she said. “Whatever you say, honey.”

She said the pet name lightly, flippantly, but she was only half joking.

**Author's Note:**

> I would like to note that Spike's prejudice against the French language is entirely his own. I love French.


End file.
